Things Everyone Looks Good In
by pancakesforbreakfast
Summary: Short, mostly fluffy ramblings about Steve and Natasha appreciating each other in a list of Things Everyone Looks Good In.
1. Flannel Shirt - Steve

_**A/N: This little collection is inspired by a list of Things Everyone Looks Good In that I found a while back. It will mostly be fluffy, more or less OOC, and definitely play hard and fast with the MCU canon. I think I'll try to keep the chapters in the same universe, but they will not be in any kind of order, especially not chronological.**_

 _ **Any similarities between this and other fics are unintentional. I'll be the first to admit that my headcanons have been shaped by other stories I've read. A lot of these are pretty common tropes. I hope that you'll enjoy my take on them!**_

 _ **Just two more little housekeeping things. 1) I started by writing little summary-like things for each prompt and I like them, so they will be in italics at the beginning of each chapter. 2) The chapter titles will have the item of clothing and the character's POV which it's from (not who's wearing the item). This chapter, for example, is from Steve's POV.**_

 _ **Happy Reading!**_

* * *

 _Natasha had this habit of stealing (borrowing, she insisted) the other Avengers' clothes. No one was surprised when she walked into the living room in one of Clint's sweaters two days after they had all moved in. But then she wore Stark's sweatpants, Bruce's t-shirts, and even Thor's baseball cap during one of his visits to Earth. Stark and Banner often got annoyed, but Steve had to admit he found it endearing, until she sauntered in one of his plaid shirts, oversized on her smaller frame, the sleeves rolled up but still falling around her wrist - then he found it terribly attractive._

It started with Barton's sweatshirt. The grey striped hoodie that the archer liked to wear after his workout sessions.

All the Avengers had moved into the new facility after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D. in order to regroup and begin rebuilding the organization. They all had separate suites but they floated in and out of the common room throughout the day, occasionally gathering for an official meeting but usually just enjoying being in the presence of the others.

Steve was the first to move in, aside from Tony, of course. But pretty soon Barton and Banner showed up. Even Sam moved up from D.C. when Tony asked him to head the military relations department for a while. Thor was too busy with Asgardian matters to move in completely, but he popped in every few days to check up on his Earth-bound friends. Steve was beginning to wonder if Natasha would ever return, when one day she appeared as if out of nowhere, casually perched on a stool eating a bowl of cereal. She greeted him with a nod and small smile and turned back to her breakfast, not acknowledging her month-long disappearance.

Two days later, it happened for the first time. The rest of the team was gathered in the common room to discuss the revival of the S.H.I.E.L.D. recruiting program. The red head wandered in sporting the grey zippered sweatshirt that Steve was sure he had seen Clint wear many times. He didn't miss the archer's eye-roll nor Natasha's little smirk as she took her seat that confirmed his suspicions. Steve was pretty sure the rest of the team noticed too, but no one said anything - the two spies were thick as thieves anyways, so why shouldn't they share the occasional piece of clothing.

But then she walked into a training session in a pair of black sweatpants rolled several times at the waist and sporting the Stark Industries logo. Tony stilled in the air as his eyes zoomed in on the logo. "Red, did those pants come from a locker with my name plastered all over it, by any chance?"

Steve chuckled to himself as the Black Widow smirked and kept walking towards the line of dummies on the far wall. Tony let out an indignant gasp, but Natasha called coolly over her shoulder, "Think of it as a lesson in sharing, Stark."

"That's not sharing! That's stealing, Romanoff!" Tony shouted back.

"I'm not stealing, just borrowing." Any further conversation was cut off as she began attacking the dummies. The first one was lying on the floor in seconds.

"She could've just asked for a pair," Stark grumbled to no one in particularly before he resumed blasting flying target drones out of the air.

A couple days later, Steve ambled down to the common room to grab a bottle of water before his morning run. It was barely 6 a.m., but Natasha was already sitting at the coffee table by the window with a newspaper and a cup of tea. She was dressed in the tight black slacks that Steve had been informed were called yoga pants and a faded t-shirt that looked a little big on her.

They nodded to each, and Steve turned to grab a water bottle from the cabinet and begin filling it. Then footsteps thudded slowly down the hall towards them, their owner clearly just waking up or headed to sleep. Dr. Banner turned the corner and gave Steve a sleepy nod, the bags under the scientist's eyes tattling on his tendency to stay awake until a project was finished. Yet, even half-asleep, Bruce froze half way across the room, zeroed in on the Black Widow. Steve turned around at the sudden quiet in time to see the other man shake his head and mumble, "Third time this week," before lumbering off again.

Steve looked around the room for anything out of place. Finally, Natasha shifted, reclining back in her seat, so that Steve could see the design on her t-shirt: the periodic table of elements. Of course. She had "borrowed" it from Dr. Banner. Steve smiled to himself as he screwed the lid onto the water bottle and headed out for his run.

By the end of the month, Steve wasn't quite sure if Natasha didn't own enough clothes, had kleptomaniac tendencies, or just liked annoying her teammates. She regularly sported Bruce and Sam's t-shirts, and she had swiped a baseball cap literally off Thor's head during one of his visits. The latter had laughed loudly and told her that any warrior capable of taking a helmet from The Great Thor's head was worthy of keeping it. Personally, Steve found it endearing. He liked the reminder that she was here for good, a part of the team.

But then she sauntered into the common room for Avengers Movie Night in a red, white, and blue plaid shirt Clint had given him for Christmas two years ago. The shirt was way too big on her, the sleeves rolled up several times just to hang at her wrist. Steve found her couldn't take his eyes off of her as she balanced on the arm of the sofa and asked, "So what's on deck tonight?" Tony answered something that Steve didn't quite catch. He was realizing that Natasha's habit might be a problem after all – she was way too attractive when she wore his clothes.


	2. Glasses - Steve

_She hated the glasses. He thought they looked cute._

Steve had seen Natasha wear a lot of disguises throughout his time as her partner – pantsuits as a Senator, ball gowns as corporate heiresses, even lingerie as a Victoria's Secret model. But he had never seen the spy as fidgety in costume as he did now. Her harried grad student look fit in perfectly with the actual attendees of Cornell University: tight black leggings, well-worn t-shirt with album art from the 1980s, coffee-stained and oversized plaid flannel button-up, and the hairstyle he thought he'd heard Darcy call a "messy bun." With her backpack (packed with guns, garrotes, bomb-diffusers, and a few drugs and their antidotes) slung over one shoulder, she moved across the rainy quad seeming to mutter furtively to herself about the best nanostructure to use for conducting electricity or something of the sort.

To any outside observer, she may have seemed over-caffeinated and over-stressed, but through his ear piece, Steve listened to every fourth sentence meant for him and the rest of the team. "No sign of Brechten yet… I think I'll try the second… Stupid rain… Zeiger teaching class at 3… Stupid glasses… Brechten should be in his office then at least… Tell Sanderson no more glasses… Hopefully there won't be too many students at his office hours… I can't see through these damn things… I'll try to catch him on his way in." The rain was really more of a fine mist, which Steve suspected actually made things worse when she used the lapel of her shirt to wipe the lenses for the second time in four hundred feet.

When the Black Widow had finally crossed the crowded greenspace, she disappeared into the Physics building, and the grumbling lessened as she made her way to the second floor. "Office on the west side of the building…. Exterior windows… Second from the right." Steve nodded to Marshall and moved around the corner of the parking garage they were staked out in to have a better view. Selfishly, he thought, he was glad to not have to go out into the drizzling rain. To see the other sides of the building, he would have had to cross the quad himself.

There were twenty or so minutes of relative silence while they waited for Professor Brechten to return to his office. But then he heard Natasha's voice call out, "Professor! I was wondering if you had a minute. Professor Janbridge thought you might be able to help me with a question I had on my thesis."

A few seconds later, the double windows he was watching brightened as the door swung open and then the professor turned on the lights. Natasha followed him in. With his enhanced vision, Steve did not need binoculars to see the redhead push the glasses up the bridge of her nose as she sat down in a worn armchair. As Natasha chatted about some issue with carbon nanostructure that she and Tony had haggled out two days ago, Steve found himself getting distracted by how often she repeated that small gesture. Thank goodness he was only here as back-up if things went unexpectedly south, because he would be no use in analyzing their conversation. Instead, he found himself counting the number of times Natasha fixed the glasses, raising two elegant fingers to move the frame: twelve, by the time she thanked Brechten and left his office.

Five minutes later, she joined them in a tucked away corner of the garage and immediately removed the glasses to clean the haze of water that had returned on her walk there. "What, Romanoff, don't like the specs?" Steve teased her when she placed them back in the case she had dug out from the murder-stash backpack. Natasha wrinkled her nose in response. "Pity. I thought they looked pretty cute on you."

He laughed and ducked as she threw a right hook at his head.


	3. Flannel Shirt - Natasha

**Two updates in a week! Woah! (Don't get used to it. I forgot I had this one from months ago.) Enjoy!**

 _She would never admit it to anyone except Laura, but watching Steve at the farm, more relaxed than she'd ever seen him, in a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, made her seriously consider giving up the spy life and settling down next door to the Bartons._

She had already noticed the looks Laura was giving her and the way Clint nudged her ribs every time she stared at Rogers for a little too long, but she was determined not to give in to their pushing. After all, if she admitted her growing infatuation with the Star-Spangled Hero out loud, then she'd have to admit it to herself.

But that didn't stop her from slowly lowering the plate she had been washing into the bubble-filled sink when she saw him walk out to the wood pile. He was sporting one of Clint's flannel shirts, the sleeves unbuttoned and rolled half way up his forearms. Natasha knew that the shirt was one from the days before Laura and the rest of the Barton clan, when Clint's whole life was S.H.I.E.L.D. and archery and long hours in the gym. He was still the best at his job, but even the Great Hawkeye would admit that he'd lost some muscle tone since having kids. Now days, his old shirts hung looser on him, but Steve filled out the buffalo plaid so she could almost hear the seams shrieking as he swung the axe.

Natasha also knew how soft the fabric of that shirt was. And she couldn't help it when her mind wandered to how nice it would feel to be wrapped up in Captain America's flannel-clad arms. She imagined fall evenings curled in the brown suede couch across from Clint and Laura, mirroring their lazy embrace, as the couples chat by the fire. Or Fourth of July, the evening air just crisp enough to make her grateful when the Golden Boy drapes that same shirt over her shoulders while they watch the fireworks.

Mesmerized by these dreams of another life, Natasha almost didn't notice when the screen door clunked behind Laura as she returned from the porch. "I didn't know splitting wood was that enthralling," the other woman teased as she placed another glass in Natasha's to-wash pile. "But then again, I haven't seen Steve Rogers split wood. Maybe I should give it a try. For the sake of America, you know." She winked, brown eyes twinkling.

Natasha quickly picked up the plate she had let slide back into the soapy water and began scrubbing it again. "Captain America may be a showman, but I hardly think it counts as a civil duty to watch him do chores," she replied deadpan.

Laura flicked at her butt gently with a towel. "You just say that because you want the show to yourself!" Then she put the towel to good use and began drying the newly cleaned dishes. The Black Widow glared playfully for a second. Laura Barton was one of few who could get away with such antics, so she remained unscathed and the two women continued their chore in companionable silence.


End file.
